


science vs. romance

by unwindmyself



Series: no one's got it all (anthologies) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, F/F, Fake Marriage, Family, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Rock and Roll, Skimmons Week, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for Skimmons Week 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there's a pretty young thing in front of you and she's real pretty and she's real into you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: fake dating/married (real dating, fake married).

“After you, Mrs. Daisy Simmons.”

“No, no, I insist, after you, Mrs. Jemma Johnson.”

Jemma pulls a face.  “Well, we can’t just swap surnames, that’s silly.”

“No, you are,” Daisy retorts, picking Jemma up in a proper bridal carry and walking her through the hotel room door (which she nudged open with her powers a moment ago).

“No fair using your advantages,” Jemma pouts.

“You mean the advantage of you being so tiny that anyone could pick you up?” Daisy teases, ignoring the other part.

Jemma huffs.  “Aren’t we supposed to spend our honeymoon doing something other than bickering?” she asks.

Daisy chuckles.  “I think technically we’re supposed to spend our honeymoon however we want, as long as we’re in the hotel where we can vaguely keep an eye on surveillance stuff,” she says, and she gently tosses Jemma on the impossibly large bed.  “The fact that we get to spend it actually _doing_ honeymoon stuff is just a benefit.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Jemma giggles.  “I just think it’s a shame we’re here in traveling kit.  I’d have loved to see you all done up in a tuxedo.”

“Why would I have the tux?” Daisy exclaims, faking indignation.  “When was the last time, before right now, that you wore a dress?”

“Well, which of us could kill someone with her bare hands?” Jemma asks.

“Both of us,” Daisy points out.  “ _Your_ bare hands are what make, like, poison or explosives or something.”

“Fine, then,” Jemma sighs.  “You’ve got the shorter hair now.  Plus, you top.”

“Well, that part is true,” Daisy smirks.  “So how about you shimmy out of that Sunday go to meeting frock and show me the bridal lingerie I know you wore for me?”

“Yes, _ma’am_ ,” Jemma says, voice low and pleasantly rumbly.  She eases up to do just that, smirking.  “Anything for my beautiful new wife.”

“God, I love how that sounds,” Daisy sighs.  “We should do this for real someday.”

Jemma pauses.  “You mean…”

“Yeah,” Daisy says.  “I don’t have a ring to give you except these fake ones, but yeah.  If you wanna, I wanna.”

Jemma drops her dress and moves to embrace Daisy.  “Of course I wanna.”


	2. I'm a modern girl but I fold in half so easily when I put myself in the picture of success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: movie/TV ( _Almost Famous_ ) AU.

“She’s with us,” the dark-haired girl says, pulling Jemma in through the door before anyone can argue with it.

She says her name is Skye and Jemma has never seen anyone more beautiful.  Skye drags Jemma around backstage, introducing her to the other Band-Aides ( _never_ groupies) and the roadies and the members of the band, and as they’re leaving that night to the sound of Jemma’s father’s special family whistle, she invites Jemma to the hotel where the band is staying.

“I’ll have to lie to my father,” Jemma says.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Skye promises.

 

“I always tell the girls never take it seriously.  If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt.  If you never get hurt, you always have fun.  And if you ever get lonely, you can go to the record store and visit your friends.”

Jemma thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard.

 

Skye flits around the hotel suite babbling in other languages and blowing kisses and showing off, and all Jemma can do is stare.  All the more when she sees Skye twirl up to the Miles lead guitarist and exchange whispers.

Kara, one of the other Band-Aides, comes up beside Jemma and explains it all away, cooing, “You were her reason for coming here.”

What to say to that?

 

Jemma goes on the road despite her father’s disapproval, his tutting that following a rock band, even for journalistic purposes, is no life for a girl who was valedictorian, graduated by fifteen.

Skye and the other girls welcome her aboard the tour bus in a flurry of Polaroids and cheek kisses, and everyone chalks her constant blush up to her being overwhelmed.

 

July 2, Skye’s birthday, and everyone chips in to buy her a cake.  Her eyes are shining when she blows the candles out, but only Jemma seems to notice.

“You’re too sweet for rock and roll,” Skye tells her later when she tries to ask.

 

The girls are supposed to leave in New York - no room on the new plane - but Skye sticks around, hovering around the same bar the band is in.  Coulson, the manager, goes to talk to her, but Jemma can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong.

She’s the one who calls the hotel doctor when Skye overdoses.

 

“My father always said I was meant to _transform_ into something _enchanting_ ,” Skye sighs, circling Central Park with her arm linked through Jemma’s.  “That’s why he named me Daisy.”

“Your father named you _Daisy_?”

“Daisy _Johnson_.”

 

There are tears in Jemma’s eyes as she walks Skye up to the gate, but she tries to smile.

“Come with me,” Skye - Daisy? - says, grinning mischievously.

It’s the easiest decision Jemma has ever made.


	3. and that's how I choose to remember it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: reunion.

“I wish we hadn’t had to come to this,” Jemma sighs, tugging on her blazer.

“What?  I think it’ll be fun,” Daisy says.  “Meet your old friends.  Do reconnaissance on who’s working for the Nazis.”

“I don’t really have old friends here,” Jemma mumbles.  “I was practically a child, they were full-grown adults.  At best, I -”

“Jemma _Simmons_?” a gorgeous Indian woman exclaims, rushing over and enveloping her in a hug.  “My god, you’re all grown up!”

Jemma raises an eyebrow at Daisy, as if to say see what I mean, and then, forcing a smile, she chirps, “Vasanti!  It’s been too long.  How are you doing?”

“Oh, same old,” Vasanti replies.  “The usual business of I’d tell you about my business but I legally can’t.”

“That makes three of us,” Daisy quips, and she holds out her hand.  “Daisy Simmons.  It’s a pleasure.”

Vasanti’s eyes go to Daisy’s left hand and then both her and Jemma’s faces.  “You mean to say?”

“Yes,” Jemma agrees chipperly.  “Little Jemma Simmons managed to find herself an unfairly gorgeous wife.”

“I never would have guessed,” Vasanti coos.  “Then again, when I knew you, you were barely old enough to be fawning over boy bands.”

Jemma makes a face.  “I assure you,” she says to Daisy, “I never once fawned over a boy band.”

“Should I believe her?” Daisy asks Vasanti.

A shrug.  “Well, I never heard it, anyway, but I imagine she would have kept it private.  That’s always been her way.”

Daisy laughs.  “Well, that’s sort of true,” she says, and she squeezes Jemma’s hand, because the Jemma she knows wears interests and her heart on her sleeve, even if she keeps her personal anxieties to herself.

“Can we stop ripping my adolescent foibles apart?” Jemma exclaims, looking flustered.

“I like them,” Daisy declares.  “Besides, I think it’s fair.  Everyone learned about where I come from, I should get to learn about you, too.”

“It’s so far from the same thing,” Jemma mumbles, blushing.


	4. you'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest, you'll be brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: domestic (inspired by [this](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/28/wells-fargo-lesbian-couple-asl_n_7163254.html)).

“Jem, come to bed,” Daisy pleads, standing in the doorway.  “You can practice more tomorrow.”

“I’m -” Jemma begins, but she frowns and makes herself sign the rest of the sentence. _I’m making progress, I’m fine._

Daisy nods, and she signs her response back.   _You need to sleep.  I love you._

SIghing Jemma switches the computer off.  “I love you too,” she says.  “Thank you for looking after me.  Even doctors need doctoring.”

Daisy pulls Jemma into her arms.  “I know, honey,” she says.  “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

They’ve been really truly not-just-fake-married for a couple of years when Daisy says, “Do you ever think about kids?”

“Occasionally,” Jemma admits.  “Do you?  Affirmatively?”

“It’s kinda complicated,” Daisy sighs.  “But it just… I think about what I grew up like, and then I think about these kids we’ve come across who’ve been displaced by some disaster, or whose parents were Inhumans who got killed, or… and I think, I wouldn’t trust anyone to be a good parent more than you.”

Jemma swallows and her eyes well with tears.  “I want to do right by you,” she says.

“You always do, Jemma,” Daisy replies.

They start looking into adoption the next day.

 

“What if she doesn’t like us?” Jemma frets in the car on the way over.

“She will,” Daisy promises.

“You’re biased,” Jemma mumbles, but she’s smiling.

‘I’m so biased, but that doesn’t make me wrong.”

 

“Ready?” asks the agent who’s been facilitating the adoption for them.

“Ready,” Daisy and Jemma say in unison, squeezing hands.

The agent leads them through to where a little girl of about eight, her dark hair done in pigtails, sits playing with Legos.

“Daisy, Jemma,” the agents says, “meet Xiaozhi.”

Jemma starts to cry, smiling, and Daisy kneels to greet their daughter.

“Hello,” Daisy says, signing along a bit clumsily as she does.  “I’m Daisy and this is Jemma.  We’re going to be your new moms.  Would you like that?”

Xiaozhi nods, a smile spreading across her face.   _I’m very happy_ , she signs.

Jemma kneels down as well.   _We’re very happy too_ , she signs, and Daisy wipes her tears away for her.

_Can I hug you?_ Xiaozhi asks.

_Of course_ , Daisy replies, and she wraps her arms around both of them.


	5. how did you survive all those fires and floods?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: historical ([ _Deadwood_ AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5882449/chapters/13577143)).

“Thank you for doing this,” Doc Simmons says, straightening the linens on one of the cots.

Daisy shrugs, settling on one of the logs that’s meant to serve as a bedside table.  The plague has ebbed of recent days; only a few men remain in their care.  “Wouldn’t’ve been much of a Good Samaritan to turn away,” she replies.  “‘Sides, it’s not like you speak even a little bit of Chinese.  Someone had to come help you get through to those who do.”

“If you hadn’t been here to do, there’s not a soul in camp that would’ve stepped up, and otherwise those patients would have gone untreated,” Simmons presses.  “And you did more than that by far.  I’ve never seen anyone take to nursing so easy.”  She cracks a tiny smile.  “Especially anyone whose previous vocation had been more in line with shining audiences on than counseling those on their way to their final rest.”

“We both know it’s not just shining on,” Daisy murmurs; if Simmons were to look she’d see patterns being drawn in the dirt though by no conceivable instrument.

“Hence my description, _more in line_ ,” Simmons retorts playfully.  “Would you take the air?  I think we can leave the patients in the Reverend Doctor Garner’s care a while.”  She nods in the direction of where said gentleman is reading scripture to a patient and he nods back.

“Why, Doctor, I thought you’d never ask,” Daisy coos, batting her eyelashes.  She’s on her feet and to the tent’s opening before Simmons can reply, and in no time at all they’re in the midday-relaxed thoroughfare.  Others of their fellow citizens are out, but it’s not nearly the raucous environment it gets to be past sundown.

“Was this what you always wanted to do with your life?” Daisy asks after a minute.

“I wanted to help people,” Simmons sighs.  “I don’t think I fancied myself ending up in some far-flung territory stitching miners’ drunkenly inflicted gunshot wounds every night, but there’s opportunity out here that there wasn’t in proper civilization, and after…”  She trails off, adopting the frown Daisy knows is reserved for thoughts of her long-gone partner.

“There’s nothing says a drunken gunshot wound is less noble than a rich woman’s childbirth,” Daisy declares.  “I think what you do is plenty remarkable.  It’s the families you help, too, the honest workers, the immigrants, the girls at the saloons.”

“Wasn’t saying I’m discontent,” Simmons says with a wry twist of her lips.  “Just that it isn’t what I imagined when I was young.”

Daisy nods.  “Well, I’m glad it worked out this way,” she says.  “Otherwise you wouldn’t’ve crossed paths with a mysteriously-gifted, orphaned daughter of an immigrant and her shunned lover turned illusory traveling show attraction turned noted local color.”

“Otherwise I would’ve been ignorant to whole parts of life,” Simmons adds.  “Those gifts you display and those who possess them, countless aspects of life and culture.”  She pauses, coming to a stop at the end of the road and scuffing her toe against the ground.  “What it meant to care for another soul in the deepest possible way.”

Daisy’s eyebrow quirks up.  “Is this how they go courting overseas?” she asks playfully.  “After countless days and nights saving lives alongside someone?”

“I don’t know how they do it, only how I’m doing it,” Simmons says.  “And maybe it’s just the lack of rest that’s making me run my mouth, but I’m running it at the most beautiful, kindest, strongest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, so I don’t regret it.”

“Doc Simmons,” Daisy whispers, expression softening.

“Jemma.”


	6. all this talk about your sweet girlfriend is starting to pay off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: misunderstanding.

“How’s your girl doing?” Trip asks Jemma.  

“My…”

“Skye,” he says.  “You two are an item, yeah? I thought from the way you talked about her…”

Jemma lets out a laugh.  “Yeah, we are,” she says.  “Finally, someone gets it.”

 

“You love her,” Melinda says softly.

Skye puts her gun down.  “I’m not…”

“Simmons,” Melinda presses.  “You said so yourself, and it’s been obvious for a while.”

Skye falters.  “I’m not the only one,” she says, because it’s the easiest thing to say.

“No,” Melinda agrees, frowning.  “But she loves _you_ back.”  A pause.  “Be careful.”

 

Bobbi leans back in her chair, smirking.  “You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” Skye and Jemma say in unison, sheepish and glad all at once.

“Are you out to the others?” Bobbi asks.

“Kind of,” Skye sighs.

“It’s complicated,” Jemma murmurs.

“Ah, yeah,” Bobbi agrees.  “I know that dance.  Good luck.”

“Thanks,” they repeat.

 

“Hey,” Mack says, entering the kitchen and finding Jemma making tea, wiping at her eyes.  “Are you okay?”

Jemma snorts out a bitter laugh.  “Trip is gone and Skye is in medical, isolated and scared and _hurting_ , and all I can do is run tests,” she says.  “And why do you care, anyway?”

“We’re teammates,” he replies, voice softening.  “And we’re all reeling.  I know you liked Trip -”

“I cared very much for Trip,” Jemma says, choking back a sob.  “But I’m not the one who had to see him - that was Skye.  That was my poor girlfriend.”

“Your…”

“Skye and I are girlfriends,” Jemma snaps.

“Girlfriends like Iz and Victoria were girlfriends?”

Jemma lets out a squeak, but she nods, and Mack nods too.

 

“Welcome back,” Hunter says.

“I’m not sure how back I am,” Skye mumbles.  “Hey, you know about fucking up relationships.  Maybe you can give me some advice.  About Je - about Simmons.”

“What’s that now?”  But all at once it dawns on him.  “You’re having one off with her, aren’t you.”

“I was,” Skye says.  “I want to be.”

“Jesus,” Hunter says.  “It all makes sense now.”

 

“Jemma, where the hell have you been?” Fitz exclaims.  “This is no time to go off on your own.  The Bus -”

There are a thousand things Jemma could say, a thousand ways to explain this, a thousand retorts that Fitz might well deserve to hear if not now then at least for the last months (but the last months were her own fault), but all she can do is reach into her pack (reach past the weapons she’s brought with her) and pull out the hula girl, who seems to tremble.

“That’s…”  He studies the thing, then Jemma’s expression, nervousness and exhaustion and some tiny glimmer of hope.  “That’s Skye’s.  You went to go find Skye’s toy at a time like this?”

“Horribly stupid of me, I know,” Jemma mutters.  “It’s not going to make up for all the ways I’ve hurt her, it’s not going to win her back…” She realizes what she’s said and immediately she looks horrified.

“Oh,” Fitz says.

“I’m so sorry,” Jemma says.

“You should give it to her,” he murmurs, patting Jemma’s shoulder in what he hopes is consolation.  “She’ll think it’s great.”

 

“I know it’s hard to lose your friend, Skye,” Coulson says, “especially after losing…”

_Your parents that you looked so hard for._

“Daisy,” she says softly.  “My name is Daisy, and Simmons is more than just my friend.”

“I know,” Coulson sighs.  “She’s a teammate.  She’s family.  She’s that to all of us.”

Daisy (she can’t be Skye anymore, Skye’s the one who loses people, who lost her Jemma and can’t get her back) almost laughs.  All this time and he still doesn’t understand.


	7. and I was your silver lining as the story goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: future.

“Mummy,” Toria whines, flouncing into the living room.  “Xiaozhi and Isa won’t let me help with the you-know-what.”

The adults all smirk, but it has to be Jemma’s to answer, “I think they just must have a plan they’re set on.  You can keep us company.”

Toria sighs, but she settles between her moms on the sofa.

“Does the you-know-what have to do with what day it is?” Joey asks, looking slyly at Daisy.

“Is the you-know-what edible?” adds Audrey.

“I think everyone has correctly guessed about the you-know-what,” Andrew smirks.  “But pretending is part of the fun.”

Daisy pulls her younger daughter into her lap, shrugging.  “I take nothing for granted anymore,” she says.

“Better safe than sorry, eh, Tremors?” Mack jokes (it’s only half a joke).

“Aw, shut up,” Daisy replies cheerfully.

“Nothing like old friends to make you feel young again,” Bobbi declares.

“Don’t say that word,” Daisy groans.

“What?  You’re still the youngest director any iteration of SHIELD has had, and you’re still younger than all of the rest of us,” Mack points out.

“If anyone needs to worry about being old, it’s us,” Melinda murmurs, smirking into her drink and gesturing between herself and Andrew.

“You’re Melinda May, you’ll never have to worry about being old,” Jemma says eagerly.

“I hope they’re not still mythologizing me like that at the Academy,” Melinda laughs.

“The only stories I ever hear about you among the students are true ones,” Jemma promises.  “I just mean that you’re perfect no matter what.”

“Hey, I’m your wife, I thought I was the perfect one,” Daisy huffs.

“Of course you are,” Jemma consoles.

Toria, who’s been increasingly fidgety, makes a face and squirms out of her mom’s lap.  “Aunt Bobbi, may I play with your batons?” she asks so politely it’s clearly been rehearsed.

Bobbi nods.  She’s Toria’s favorite aunt, and she takes it very seriously.  “They’re in my bag,” she says.  “Stay downstairs, okay?”

“I will,” Toria promises, and she goes off.

“I’m never gonna get over that,” Mack chuckles.  “They’re half as tall as she is.  And weapons.”

“It’s good for her,” Bobbi says.  “Large-scale stim toys.  If the moms didn’t like it they’d say.”

Jemma and Daisy shrug at each other cheerfully.  “She’s a very responsible six-year-old,” Jemma says. “And it’s not as if Bobbi didn’t teach her how to at least play safely.”

“God, we’re the weirdest parents in the world,” Joey laughs, and he leans to rock baby Antoine’s carrier gently before settling back against Mack’s shoulder.

“You’re all very functional weird parents,” Audrey amends, nodding first at Mack and Joey, then Daisy and Jemma.  “And the rest of us make very functional weird aunts and uncles.  I think he’d be proud of what you’ve all made.”

They all fall silent a minute, because they know which he she means.  Bobbi reaches for Audrey’s hand, Melinda nods somberly, and the cat chooses this moment to enter and jump in Jemma’s lap, eyeing the guests coolly.  “I think they all would,” she murmurs.

From the doorway, Lincoln coughs.  “I’m gonna go get Toria,” he says, exiting to do.

“We have a surprise for you, Aunt Daisy,” Isa says, although it’s not much of a surprise considering she’s holding the handmade cake in her hands for all to see (her dads nod approvingly, it doesn't look half bad).

 _No melancholy on your birthday, Mom,_ Xiaozhi signs, rolling her eyes fondly.   _I will make you cheer up if I have to._

 _What have we said about practicing your gift on people?_ Jemma signs back.

 _I wouldn’t be doing it without telling you,_ Xiaozhi replies.   _Isa gets to practice hers on you guys all the time._

 _We don’t need to discuss -_ and here Daisy falters for a moment - _powers semantics when all the aunts and uncles are visiting_.  She smiles to show she’s not mad, then nods to the coffee table.   _Bring that over and when your sister and Lincoln get back we’ll all try a piece._

Xiaozhi and Isa shrug at each other and do just that, and when Lincoln and Toria reappear (she looking mildly sullen at having been interrupted) Isa says, “Hey, Uncle Pikachu, grab the plates and stuff for us?”

“I am never forgiving you for telling them that nickname,” Lincoln says to Daisy, disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with tableware.

“Can’t be mad at the birthday girl,” Daisy retorts, grinning.


End file.
